


One-Shot Wonders

by Melda_Burke



Category: Undertale
Genre: F/F, F/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-16
Updated: 2018-10-03
Packaged: 2019-06-11 08:42:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15311733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Melda_Burke/pseuds/Melda_Burke
Summary: A collection of my best Undertale and Undertale AU one-shots. There are romantic, sexy stories, and there are also horrifying, intense tales to be told, so don't be afraid. Hold your breath. Make a wish. Count to three. Dearest reader, please come with me, and you'll see a world of pure determination.





	1. A Dance In The Dark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For HibernalBeast, MsMk, and Indecissive-kimi, who always keep me encouraged and on my toes.

Silence is a cacophony. It is a loud, obnoxious, grating thing. It hums like the ringing of your ears as a stress-induced tinnitus that hangs at the edge of one’s hearing where it knows it can be most irritating. And, now, with the breaking of the barrier, it had fallen upon the crowd of anxious monsters gathered in Snowdin.

Noiseless wails were woven within Boreas’ frozen breath; it was he who blew across the twinkling snow which covered the ground, and speared hearts with icicles of despairing silence. No one dared to break his hold, though the snowflakes, those crystalline water-stars; a poor imitation, an earthly and under-earthly creation, tried in vain to sparkle and inspire the growing fire of rebellion that had sparked within the people’s hearts.

Aliza’s breath stopped as she heard slow, heavy footsteps crunch and crush the snow. A strong, low voice bellowed from the palace-bound path that lined the crest of the hill. “ ** _As above, so below, place your bets which way the head will roll._** ” Sans, dragging the struggling, bleeding Queen Undyne, appeared. He threw her in front of him, and she rolled down the hill. Bruises lay upon bruises, and shards of bone had made their home in her scales. “ ** _Made in your image, we are at least as twisted and mean as thee._** ” He grabbed her by her hair, matted and blackened with dead blood as it was, and made her face her former subjects. “’ ** _Fore your eyes, what a curious sight, your children have turned on you. And you say, you don’t sleep well at night…_** ” A chilly, amused grin split his face, just as she had split open his skull. “ ** _Well, we’ll take care of that for you._** ”

“ ** _Belle Marie Antoinette,_** ” He crooned, and hooked a finger under the string of freshwater pearls that encircled her throat. “ ** _Love the pearls!_** **_They’ll make a great tourniquet_**.” His hand strayed up to clutch at her neck. “ ** _Never did as you should, and you claim it was all for our very own good._** ” He jerked his head over his shoulder to stare at his poor, bereft friends and family. “ ** _’Twas a lie, a magnificent lie!_** ” He squeezed until her eyes bulged, and her hands clawed at him in a weak attempt to remove it. “ ** _Now, your subjects have turned on you. And you claim you have lots on your mind._** ” The royal guards stepped hesitantly from the crowd. “ ** _Well, we’ll take care of that for you._** ”

He ripped the scratched, ruined crown from her head, and tossed her at their feet. “ ** _Get that damn thing off her neck._** **_I’m the head of the board, now I’m bored of her head._** ” Still, they did nothing yet. They still cowered before her, even now, when she was battered, broken, and defeated. He snarled sharply in response to their cowardice.“ ** _Sharpen up the blade boys, what are you waiting for? Here’s where we all get ahead!_** ” The deposed ruler grinned, spat at him, and threw her head back in mirthful laughter. He growled, and hauled her up to look deeply into his single eye. “ ** _Wipe that damn smile off your face, or we’ll lop it off clean with our new guillotine._** ”  He shoved her hard into the arms of L.D.. “ ** _Sharpen up the blade boys, what are you waiting for?! Here’s where we all get ahead!_** ”

Still, everyone refused to move. She’d trained them well; broken bones and lashes with bullwhips are not soon forgotten. Aliza, her heart palpating with her own terror, glanced down at the axe in her hands. Sans had left it with her after she helped break the barrier, and she gulped down the lump in her throat. Was this truly the only way? Hadn’t there been enough bloodshed already? Her knuckles were growing whiter than the snow beneath her feet as her conflicted thoughts raced through her mind. However, Undyne’s psychotic expression sealed her fate; those wide eyes were empty, for her soul was gone. The real Undyne had died long ago, and with that realization, Aliza tapped Sans’s shoulder and offered him his axe.

Undyne watched, emotionless, as Sans accepted the weapon. The guards finally knelt and secured her arms behind her back, and led her through the forest to an old stump. “ ** _All my troubles, all my pain, stems from this thing you call a ‘brain’._** ” She shrugged her shoulders carelessly. “ ** _Be my guest; sever me from the source of all my agony. What a shame, I’ve forgotten my name without the use of my brain. And my, bet I’ll sleep well tonight without this head of mine!_** ” To Aliza, Undyne seemed almost…relieved.  She made no fuss as the guards forced her to her knees, and grinned mockingly up at them. “ ** _Get this damn thing off my neck. I’m the head of the board, now I’m bored of my head. Sharpen up the blade boys, what are you waiting for? Here’s where we all get ahead!_** ” Sans swung his axe as he walked to her side, smirking, and his sockets had gone dark in his wrath. “ ** _Wipe that damn smile off your face, or we’ll lop it off clean with our new guillotine. Sharpen up the blade boys! Bells are now tolling, soon heads will be rolling…_** ”

Sans raised his axe high above his head, and it landed with a thunk… in the wood of the stump. Undyne had leaped to her feet, and was dashing through the woods. She cackled madly as she broke her bonds with ease, dodging bones and magical missiles with all the streetwise agility of a tomcat. “ ** _Please sir, for me, sir, won’t you see if you see, sir? Oh dear, I dread I seem to have lost my head! I think I left it about. It fell to the ground and I kicked it around. Has anyone seen, no need to be mean, my bloody fat, ugly head?_** ” She ducked a dive from G.D, and smoothly slipped between the bars of the ‘fence’ Papyrus had made so long ago. She bounded like a deer between the trees, her hair bouncing and eye aflame with sea-green light. “ ** _Please miss, for me, sis, won’t you see if you see, sis? It’s got black hair and it’s kickin’ about in the square. I’m really not totally sure, but I think that it might have rolled into the sewer. Has anyone seen, no need to be mean, my bloody, fat, ugly head?_** ” Her foot, fortunately for them, caught on a rock and she was sent tumbling to the ground.

She lay there, dazed, as they gathered ‘round. She was twitching, and muttering to herself; it was a truly pitiful sight. Here was a woman brought to the end of her rope by love; she was already a corpse before they even took her head. She was soulless, rotting from inside like a dead log, and yet somehow still animated. There was no hope for her; she was gone.

Her darting, unfocused eyes stared at the sky with rapt fascination, and she raised her hand to greet a specter that was visible to her alone; a being made of yellow light, and whose name she whispered from a hoarse throat.

“ _Come with me, where chains will never bind you. All your grief, at last, at last, behind you. Lord in Heaven, look down on her in mercy!”_

Undyne’s vacant eyes filled with fathomless sorrow and longing for love-lost. “ ** _Forgive me all my trespasses and take me to Your glory._** ” Sans wove through the crowd and stood beside her. His axe was at the ready, and she met his eyes again, but this time she held no malice. Instead, she smiled, laid still, and closed her eyes. Her fingers felt for the jar of dust that had never left her side, and she was finally content.

“ _Take my hand, and lead me to salvation. Take my love, for love is everlasting, and remember the truth that once was spoken-_ “

“ ** _To love another person is to see the face of God!_** ” She melted with the snow, and her life ebbed with the pulse of a passing breeze. She went quietly into the night, her mind stolen by the ghost of a lover. If it was a product of her madness or if it was real, who could say but she? And her…her time was in the past. She was now only a scar on the bodies, hearts, and minds of the people she’d sworn to protect. And, hopefully, some of those scars could heal in her absence.

No one knew what to say, or what to do for that matter. Should they cheer? It didn’t feel right, no. There were too many bodies feeding the flowers here in this pit, where sunlight reached only in grasping, stunted claws. Instead, Papyrus laid a gentle hand on his brother’s shoulder and took the first step in the direction of a new life. He was a true hero now, as his voice led the others in their blind search for comfort. “ ** _Do you hear the people sing? Lost in the valley of the night, it is the music of a people who are climbing to the light. For the wretched of the Earth, there is a flame that never dies. Even the darkest night will end, and the sun will rise. They will live again in freedom in the garden of the Lord. They will walk behind the plowshare, they will put away the sword, the chain will be broken, and all men will have their reward._** ” He went from monster to monster, taking their hand, and leading them in a train. Some clutched at his tattered scarf, others clutched desperately at his clothes, and yet others made do with simple touching those who were touching him. Together, they marched up the craggy hills, and through the ruined palace, joined by cries of disbelief and joyous sobbing. “ ** _Will you join in our crusade? Who will be strong and stand with me? Somewhere beyond the barricade, is there a world you long to see? Do you hear the people sing? Say, do you hear the distant drums? It is the future that they bring when tomorrow comes!_** ”

They carved a path through boulders, and lit the way with wisps of magic. A rainbow of magic tossed light upon the limestone cavern, and the mica embedded in the stone glittered like millions of black eyes that watched their passing with awe. Their footsteps echoed loud enough to drown that demon Silence in a sea of sound, and their voices raised in praise and exaltation to the distant stars they had never known. “ ** _Will you join in our crusade? Who will be strong and stand with me? Somewhere beyond the barricade, is there a world you long to see? Do you hear the people sing? Say, do you hear the distant drums?_** ” Their newer, truer sky was being kissed by the sun as the first of them took their first sips of free air. “ ** _It is the future that they bring when tomorrow comes!_** ” Fingers of light caressed the earth, gently waking it to the delights of the day with a lover’s embrace.

Aliza stood, flanked by Papyrus and Sans, and she watched the dawn become captured in their eyes. They sighed, tears streaming in twin rivers down their faces as the world awoke. “ ** _Aah, aah, aah, tomorrow comes!_** ”

Tomorrow came, and it was _beautiful_.


	2. Mr. Fahrenheit (Part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You've challenged Red and Boss to a karaoke-style battle of the bands, but when Boss is called away and you're forced to make small-talk with Red, things start to heat up.  
> You might even say that they get.../red-hot/.

Clashes and bangs filled the air of your second-floor flat as many of your various belongings were tossed hither and thither, and a giant, eight-foot-tall skeleton stood at the heart of the bedlam. His clothes were artistically shredded, and his tattered scarf fluttered behind him the slightest movement he made. “I cannot understand why neither you, nor my insolent brother, can bother yourselves to clean up! This apartment is a complete DISGRACE!”

You giggled into your hand. You’d invited your friends over for a movie night, but Papyrus had immediately gotten distracted by your living conditions. Truthfully, your house was almost constantly a disaster because your long hours at work made it hard to find time for something as mundane as household chores, but you’d learned to deal with it well enough

 “I’m gonna go make some popcorn for the movie, squeaker.” Red heaved himself off of your couch with a groan as his joints popped. “Stars, I’m gettin’ old.”

“Oh, shut up.” You teased, and poked him in the ribs. “You stopped aging when you reached monster majority, asshole. And here, I am…nearly twenty-six and I’ve already got crows’ feet.” You pouted with your arm dramatically over your forehead. “Oh, the humanity that is mortality!”

He blew a little huff of air through his nasal cavity, and made a show of rolling his eye lights. “Did ya take actin’ lessons from Mettaton, ‘cuz that was pretty godawful, sweetheart.”

“SANS, I WILL TOLERATE MANY THINGS ABOUT YOU BECAUSE YOU ARE MY BROTHER, BUT I SHALL NOT HEAR A WORD AGAINST THE GLORIOUSNESS THAT IS THE BEAUTIFUL METTATON!” Papyrus poked his head out of your bedroom and glared sourly at Red. “As for you,” He cast his eyes in your direction. “I would very much like to know what this contraption is, so that I may properly alphabetize your closet.” He held up a heavy, boombox-esque device.

“Oh, wow!” You hopped up to retrieve it with a giant grin. “I totally forgot I still had that.” You took it, blowing the dust off, and loosened the bread tie that kept the cord neatly folded into loops. “It’s an old karaoke machine my mom bought me when I was in elementary school. It can play cassettes, CDs, and it can even tune into the radio. These things were the _shit_ back in the day… I wonder if I still have the microphone that goes with it…” You slipped by Papyrus, who watched you curiously as you began rummaging through your things.

“Human, no! Stop this!” He dodged several shoe boxes which you had launched over your shoulder. “I JUST ORGANIZED THIS MESS! Gah! Cease and desist, you… you lawless, _evil_ , young woman!”

As you tossed about various bits of your life’s history, your mind wandered back to the days before you had a pair of Hot Topic-obsessed, lovable dorks in your life. You’d met Papyrus first; you hadn’t been watching where you were going whilst rushing to work, and ended up covering his clothes in your morning cup of orange juice. You gave him your number to contact you to pay for the dry cleaning. When you showed up there the next day, the pair of you had started bantering like old pals at the cleaners.

And, in many ways, he reminded you so much of Robbie…

That was just the closet dust making your eyes tear up, and your throat tighten, wasn’t it? You simply bit your lip and moved on from that mournful, upsetting thought-path. Your hands closed around a foot-long, beat-up, cardboard box and you tucked it under your arm without another word. You were very good these days about deferring thoughts of your little brother to the back of your mind. Somehow, though, they always managed to pop right back up like weeds that took root and cracked apart your heart.

“Young lady, I-“ Boss began in a scolding tone, but his words fell off into an uncertain stutter. He gradually went silent, and the flexible, expressive bones of his face morphed into contemplative confusion. “Is something the matter, human?”

You schooled your features into a happy mask. “No, no…uh…It’s nothing…just a few nostalgic memories.” Nostalgia… indeed, there was a honeyed dribble of sentimental longing in your soul to _go back_. Go back to a time where you were no longer the ‘kid who lived’ to your parents. Although, saying it like that in your head made you feel less like heroic, tragic Harry Potter, and more like J.M. Barrie being dressed up to look like his own baby brother.

“I see…” He frowned at you crossly. He wasn’t an idiot, even if he weren’t as innately talented with interpersonal communication or at reading people as his brother was, you knew he’d picked up on your deflection. He despised it when you kept things from him; he treated it as a special affront to the bond of trust you’d both built together. He was your best friend, and he’d been there for you through thick and thin for years, but you’d always dodged all of his questions when it came to your family. He didn’t even know you’d ever had a brother... or that you envied his relationship with Red so much.

Granted, your boys weren’t always in the habit of getting along. However, if anyone could show you a pair or group of siblings who didn’t fight at times, you’d show them the goose who laid a golden egg. They gave each other a hard time over silly things, but there was a lot of brotherly love to be seen as well.

Red, who often gave his brother flak about going back to college, was more than willing to support Boss’s aspirations of building his own P.I. business. Heck, you’d seen him staying up late at night working out bills because Papyrus had such a difficult time with numbers due to his dyscalculia, writing out business checks, and answering Boss’s work phone whenever his brother had collapsed from sheer exhaustion. Once, you’d seen him cover his sleeping brother, who’d passed out on the couch after a long night of investigations, with his own coat.

On Boss’s end, while he disapproved of Red’s promiscuous lifestyle, he would often be on the phone while at your apartment sending Red reminders to ‘wear condoms’ or ‘be safe’. At one point, Boss had dragged his brother to your place after Red had suffered a particularly nasty break-up to keep him on a twenty-four-hour suicide watch.

You wished with every fiber of your soul that you’d had a chance to be half as good of a sister to your brother as they were brothers to one another. In Robin’s stead, you’d appropriated Boss as a brother, which had led to you eventually meeting Red.

At first, Red was more or less indifferent to you, but he had warmed up considerably in the past couple of months. He’d even taken to calling you by various funny pet-names until settling on Squeaker. You had a rather high-pitched voice that he often said sounded like ‘stepping on a broken squeaky toy’. You’d grown fond of the nickname, strange as it was, and wore it with pride.

 Mainly, he would just tease you now, occasionally interjecting dirty jokes or puns, instead of being so aloof during your encounters with him. He was definitely the prankster type, and had instigated many prank wars between the two of you. Unfortunately for him, he’d not been expecting you to be just as mischievous and devious as he was.

You had one such wily, fun idea taking shape in your mind right now; one that _definitely_ involved the re-discovered karaoke machine, a few old karaoke CDs, and some good ol’ fashioned double-dog daring. To hell with just watching a movie, this would be much more fun! “Hey, Red! Got the popcorn ready, yet?”

“Yup, do ya want caramel or chocolate sauce on yours, sweetcheeks?” He stepped out from the kitchen with four small bowls floating at head-level and a variety of toppings.

“Caramel, of course!” You made a face at him as he squirted a generous amount of mustard all over his own bowl. “Blegh, you’re so gross sometimes.”

“Yeah, but humans are _always_ gross, squeaker, an’ ya don’t catch me complainin’, do ya?” He smirked right back, and pointedly shoved a handful of mustard-slathered popcorn into his shark-toothed maw.

He jerked his chin in the direction of the machine that you were currently fiddling with. “So, whatchya doin’?”

“Oh, I just wanted to see if this old thing was still working.” You smiled to yourself at how easily your little fib flowed from your lips. Usually, it was so difficult to lie, especially to him, but you were facing away from him and you were careful to keep your tone airy and light.

Once you had it plugged in and made sure that the power button was lit up, you slid the microphone connection cord into the jack in the machine’s left side. You tapped the top to test it, causing it to let out an ear-piercing squeal that made Red curse and Boss clutch at the sides of his head. “What the hell, squeaker? You tryna make us go deaf over here, huh?” Red growled, more out of annoyance than true anger.

“Sorry, guys.” You rubbed the back of your head sheepishly. You truly hadn’t meant for that awful noise to come screaming out of the speakers. Hopefully, the feedback issue wasn’t something that would happen again.

“S’awright.” Red stuffed another handful of popcorn into his mouth, and did his best to talk around it. To your confusion, whatever he said next came out as a muffled ‘ommgnomnomgmeffmpgh’ sound.

“Um…I didn’t catch that.” You giggled into your hand. Red had all the table manners of a caveman, although his passion for food was incredibly endearing.

Boss let out a long-suffering sigh. “He was asking what the device is meant to do. Also, he wants to know if you’d like a glass of soda with your popcorn.”

You gave him a blank stare. “How the _heck_ did you get that from-“

Boss rolled his eyes. “I taught myself long ago to translate his native language; thusly, I have become fluent in dumbasswithafullmouthlish.” You snorted, and watched Red bare his kernel-covered teeth in a snarl directed at his younger brother.

“To answer your question,” You interjected before the two of them started one of their typical, petty brawls. “It’s a karaoke machine. Sort of like a sing-along, but the lyrics are taken out of the music and you do your best to sing the song.” Your entire family used to play around with the machine when you were younger. It represented a lot of great memories…and more than a few bad ones, too.

Red got up in a quest to search your fridge for soda, but threw a comment over his shoulder before leaving the room. "Sounds t' me like humans like to make themselves look stupid for no reason."

“Humans do have odd ideas of ‘fun’.” Boss remarked, although he was staring with great interest at the machine. “I’d never stoop to involve myself in such a thing.”

“Of course, I understand. It’s too bad, though, because I’m sure _Mettaton_ would absolutely love a man with a voice as good as his own.”

Red, who had returned by now with all of the drinks, chuckled at your playful manipulation. “Yeah, bro. What she said.”

“What about you, Red?” You batted your eyelashes sweetly at him. “Do you wanna sing with us?”

“Nah, I’m good. Watchin’ you two make fools outta yerselves is good enough for me, thanks.” He plopped back on the couch.

You pulled a handful of karaoke CDs from the bowls of your tv stand, and spread them out on the table for Papyrus to look through. “I see…well, I guess it’s understandable that you’re afraid you’ll be worse than your brother.” You knew exactly which buttons to push whenever you teased him.

“Is that a _challenge_ , squeaker?” Red’s eye lights gleamed from within his sockets. He hooked his thumbs under the edges of his fur-lined hood to make it sit a little higher on his shoulders.

“No, it’s a dare…a _double-dog dare_.” You teased, and he seemed to take exception to your joking.

He frowned at you, and dug a quarter out of his pocket. “Awright, me an’ squeaker are gonna flip for the chance t’ choose yer song, bro.” He smirked impishly at his younger brother, balanced the coin on his thumb, and then flicked it into the air. “I call heads.”

The quarter soared high, peaked its ascent just before it touched the ceiling, flipping end over end and winking cheerily back at everyone. It hesitated there for a millisecond before it dropped with Olympic gymnastics-quality grace, and Red smoothly plucked it out of the air as it passed in front of his face. He slapped it to the table, and pulled his hand away. “Awesome,” He grinned so wide you worried his skull might crack, and ran his finger down the tracks listed on the back of the first CD case. “I double-dog dare ya t’ sing Paint It Black by The Rolling Stones, ya little edgelord. Hope ya feel like hummin’ out all yer angst.” He held out the microphone, snickering at his little jibe.

Boss grumpily snatched the mic out of his hand and handed you the CD. “You both shall envy my vocal skills, regardless of the song choice!” He vowed proudly, and tapped his foot impatiently as you clicked through to the proper track. Little snippets of music played from each song, a consequence of using such an old machine, but you finally landed on the right one; track 24.

Slowly, the quiet riff of an acoustic guitar filled the room, drums followed with a loud crash, and the words lined up on the tv screen. “ ** _I see a red door and I want it painted black. No colors anymore, I want them to turn black. I see the girls walk by dressed in their summer clothes, I have to turn my head until my darkness goes._** ” He dropped to his knees, singing his heart out with the lyrics, and somehow managing to turn them screamo.

You didn’t have the heart to remind him that this wasn’t a throat-scream type of song. You tried to hide the fact that you were covering your ears from his off-tune screeching by flipping your hood up and resting your head on your palms. Nothing, however, could keep his unholy, soul-piercing, sing-shrieking out of your head. “ ** _I see a line of cars and they’re all painted black. With flowers and my love, both never to come back. I see people turn their heads and quickly look away, like newborn baby it just happens ev’ry day. I look inside myself, and see my heart is black. I see my red door, I must have it painted black._** ” The sitar moaned, and Papyrus wailed along.  “ ** _Maybe then I’ll fade away and not have to face the facts. It’s not easy facin’ up, when your whole world is black._** ”

You shared a pained glance with Red, who was openly holding his hands over the sides of his head, and you could clearly see the regret in his eyes. He shut his sockets tight on Boss’s next high note, which felt like some evil pixie had taken a cheese grater to your eardrums. “ ** _No more will my green sea go turn a deeper blue, I could not foresee this thing happening to you. If I look hard enough into the settin’ sun, my love will laugh with me before the mornin’ comes. I see a red door and I want it painted black. No colors anymore, I want them to turn black. I see the girls walk by dressed in their summer clothes, I have to turn my head until my darkness goes._** ”

How Boss managed to fuck up the humming, you’d never understand, but he did. His poorly-timed buzzing sounded as if an angry wasp had gotten stuck inside his mouth. You were almost relieved to hear him start singing again. “ ** _I want to see it painted, painted black. Black as night, black as coal! I want to see the sun, blotted out from the sky. I want to see it painted, painted, painted, painted BLACK!!!_** ” He sucked in another breath, and hummed as hard as he could. His performance would have been hilarious if it weren’t so painful to listen to. He dropped the mic with every ounce of confidence, and smirked. “Beat that, brother!”

Red shook his head, tapping the back of his skull. “Gimme a minute t’ recover from that…”

“Aha! So, you admit that my powerful, astounding voice has moved you.” Payprus said smugly. “Very well, you shall have your respite. In the meantime, the human and I shall figure out who will pick _your_ song, nyheheh!”

“If I had blood, mah fuckin’ ears would be bleedin’.” You heard Red mutter to himself.

The god of odds must have been feeling friendlier this time because the coin decided you should choose Red’s song. You took your time to ponder the list of songs on a hunt for the best one, until you landed on one that immediately hooked you. “I double-dog dare you to sing Don’t Stop Me Now by Queen!” You smiled wickedly at Red.

He picked the mic up off the floor. “Oh, I see how it is. _Sure_ , give the guy with the vocal range of dig-a-hole-t’-fuckin’-China a song full o’ high notes. Thanks a lot, squeaker, I’ll remember this when it’s yer turn.” He sidled up beside your tv to wait while you eagerly skipped through songs. As soon as the music began, he pulled a grinchy grin. “ ** _Tonight I’m gonna have myself a real good time. I feel alive, and the world I’ll turn it inside out, yeah. I’m floating around in ecstasy, so don’t stop me now, don’t stop me-_** “ He bopped along with the beat, grabbing the connection wire and inserting enough pelvic thrusts to rival Elvis. “ ** _’Cuz I’m havin’ a good time, having a good time! I’m a shootin’ star leapin’ through the sky like a tiger defyin’ the laws of gravity. I’m a racin’ car passing by like Lady Godiva. I’m gonna go, go, go, there’s no stoppin’ me!_** ”

Surprisingly, he was decent, definitely not at a professional (or even an amateur) level, but his voice wasn’t as headache-inducing as his brother’s. Instead, it resonated and tickled down to the roots of your teeth. “ ** _I’m burnin’ through the sky, yeah, two hundred degrees that’s why they call me Mister Fahrenheit. I’m trav’lin’ at the speed of light, I wanna make a supersonic man out of you. Don’t stop me now, I’m havin’ such a good time. I’m havin’ a ball, don’t stop me now. If you wanna have a good time just give me a call.”_** Despite struggling to manage the Freddie Mercury-style vibratos and fast-paced pitch changes, he managed to hit most of it right on the money. “ ** _Don’t stop me now, don’t stop me now, I don’t wanna stop at all. Yeah, I’m a rocket ship on my way to Mars. On a collision course, I am a satellite, I’m out of control. I’m a sex machine ready to reload like an atom bomb about to oh, oh, oh, oh, oh explode!_** ” He winked cheekily at you and his brother, who scowled back and stuck his fingers in his earholes. “ ** _Two hundred degrees, that’s why they call me Mister Fahrenheit. I’m trav’lin’ at the speed of light. I wanna make a supersonic woman out of you. Don’t stop me, don’t stop me, don’t stop me. Hey, hey, hey, don’t stop me, don’t stop me. Ooh, ooh, ooh, I like it! Don’t stop me, don’t stop me. Have a good time, good time! Don’t stop me, don’t stop me ahh!_** ” He rocked out with a giant grin, clearly enjoying himself while goofing about. “ ** _Oh, I’m burning through the sky, yeah. Two hundred degrees, that’s why they call me Mister Fahrenheit. I’m trav’lin’ at the speed of light, I wanna make a supersonic man out of you. Don’t stop me now, I’m havin’ such a good time. I’m havin’ a ball, don’t stop me now, if you wanna have a good time just give me a call. Don’t stop me now, don’t stop me now, I don’t want to stop at all._** ”

You clapped enthusiastically, while Boss groaned and booed, but Red bowed nonetheless. He tossed the mic to you, you fumbled it, and it ended up smacking Boss in the side of his skull. He narrowed his eyes at you in displeasure. “This is simply a reminder for me to resume your ‘how to not be a complete klutz’ classes.” He declared, and scooted farther down the couch to a safer space where he would likely _not_ be clobbered by flying microphones.

“Awrighty, squeaker, it’s yer-“ Red’s sentence was interrupted by blasting notes originating from the Lord of the Rings soundtrack.

Boss pulled his phone from his ‘manly’ pack (which was really just an orange fanny pack with an iron-on Spiderman patch), and answered it with a growl.  “Undyne?! I told you I couldn’t attend training tonight I am having a friendly get-together with-…a flat tire?” He listened for a few minutes before replying. “You don’t know how to- OKAY! FINE, I WON’T PERSECUTE YOU OVER NOT KNOWING HOW TO CHANGE A TIRE!” He held the phone away from his head as the screaming commenced. “Yes, yes, I know, human contrivances _are_ incredibly complex, but I can’t help pointing out that this knowledge is important to- Fine! Fine, yes, I will come and rescue you, but make note that you owe me dinner at Black Bear for this.” He bid his old friend goodbye and his ancient flip-phone closed with an aggravated snap.


	3. Mr. Fahrenheit (Part 2 of 3)

“Is Undyne alright?” You inquired because she’d sounded quite upset, if her testy tone was anything to go by.

Boss sighed. “Yes, yes, she’s fine. She ran over a roofing nail, and she doesn’t know how to change the tire to the spare.” He grabbed his coat and scarf from the coat rack. “I must go help her figure it out. I don’t know how long it’ll take, so it’s best if the two of you get along without me. I’m sorry for stepping out, but I cannot refuse a friend in need.” He put his hands on his hips authoritatively. “Sans, please provide adequate entertainment while I am gone. I know you are an immensely boring individual, but this is an emergency. If you have to, you may break out the…ugh… _puns_.”

“ _Punderful_ , bro. You know I’m pretty _punny_ when I _punna_ be.” Red chuckled as Boss growled and slammed your door shut behind him. “So, sweetheart, any ideas on what we should do next?” He looked at you expectantly.

“I’d hate for him to miss out on anything. His FOMO is off the charts, you know? He’d probably be upset.” You stretched out on the couch. “How about we just talk?” He gave you a blank look. “Well, this is the first time we’ve been alone, right? I know practically everything about Papyrus, but you…you’re a bit of a mystery.”

“There’s not much t’ me, doll. I like video games, strong drinks, an’ junk food.” He shrugged. “I’ve messed around with girls an’ guys, but nothin’ serious for a while now.” He shifted in his seat to fully face you. “But I do got a few questions for you, sweetheart. First, I wanna know whatchya want with my bro.”

“Um…what?”

“What’s yer angle here?” He peered at you intensely. “I can’t figure it out. Do ya just wanna get in his pants or are ya tryna do right by ‘im?”

Your jaw literally dropped open, and then you laughed so hard your stomach started to hurt. Between gasping for air and belly-wracking giggles, you managed to respond. “Papyrus…and…me? Gods, no!” You rubbed at your mirthfully teary eyes. “He’s like a brother to me! It’s _completely_ platonic, I promise.” You coughed, and took a drink of soda to wet your abused throat.

“Yeah, well, don’t go gettin’ any ideas, awright?” He grumbled back. “The kid’s sensitive. He’s not lookin’ for one night stands or any kind of fuck buddy deals.”

“Look, I don’t see Boss that way like… _at all_.” You sucked down another sip of cola. “He just reminds me so much of my own brother.” You spaced out for a moment with your eyes fixed on the condensation building up on your glass. “Sometimes…sometimes it feels like I’m talking to Robbie again.”

“You got a bro, too, huh?” He gave you a skeptical look. “Why haven’t we ever met ‘im?”

“I _had_ a brother.” You corrected solemnly. “He passed away a long time ago.” You swirled your drink and listened to the ice clink against the glass. “Though, technically, I have three brothers; Robin, and two half-brothers. After Robbie died, my parents couldn’t stand to be around each other…or me…so, they got a divorce and both are re-married now.” You fiddled with the rim of your glass. Why were you telling him all of this? Was it because bringing out the karaoke machine had dusted off all of these old, bitter-sweet memories?

“Oh…um…shit,” He scratched the back of his skull awkwardly. “Sorry, squeaker. Didn’t mean t’ bring up bad memories.”

You smiled sadly. “It’s not your fault, you didn’t know. Besides, I’m the one who brought it up, so I might as well spill my guts.” You tucked your feet up comfortably; it helped a lot to make yourself into a small, upright ball. It made you feel safer somehow. “I’ve been thinking a lot about him in the past few months because of Papyrus, if I’m honest with you.”

His hand twitched, almost as if he wanted to reach out to you, yet he didn’t. Maybe he wasn’t sure if you’d appreciate the gesture, although heaven knew you definitely needed a hug right now. Once Boss got back, you’d have to convince him to give you one. “So…how’d he die?” You started to answer, but he cursed and backtracked. “Damn, that was insensitive, even for my dumb ass, ya…ya don’t have t’ answer that.”

You shook your head. “No, don’t worry about it. It’s been almost a decade now, I’ve moved on. I’m only sad about it when the mood hits me in the metaphorical balls.” You watched the bubbles in your soda fizzle and pop, mainly as an excuse not to look Red in the eye, and went on. “It was summer, the kind of summer day that would have given you cause to beg for winter. We walked to the local pool, bought a few snacks, and I wasn’t really paying attention to what he was doing. I figured a twelve-year-old could more or less entertain themselves, so I let him go swim by himself.”

“I’m guessin’ he drowned?”

“Yeah.” Your throat felt thick, and your vision blurred at the corners of your eyes where tears had begun to gather. “He wasn’t a great swimmer, but he must have got it in his head that he wanted to try out the deep end.” You held your breath, squeezed your wet eyes shut, and gritted your teeth, because you were sure you’d break down if you didn’t try to hold it in. “N-no one noticed…there were lots of other kids and parents, and I g-guess the lifeguards were more concerned with the chaos…”

“Pretty useless at their job, if they’re s’posed t’ be _life_ guards.” He growled out his reply. “How old were ya?”

“Sixteen…old enough to know better.” You swallowed back your grief, pushing it down into a little box, and let out your breath in a strained, weary puff. “Mom and dad never said it outright, but I knew they blamed me. Hell, I blame myself, too.”

“Do ya think he’d wantchya to?” You looked up sharply to find him regarding you sympathetically.

“Probably not.” You admitted. The guilt was something you struggled with every single day; it was a weight on your heart you refused to reject. ‘If’ plagued you as well; _if_ only you’d paid more attention, _if_ you’d insisted on swimming with him, _if_ only you’d checked on him…you were so often caught up in a swell of remorse. Some days, trying to hold it in was like stuffing tissues into holes in the Hoover Dam. “I’m kind of jealous of you, Red.” You told him in a soft, quiet voice. “Boss loves you, I know he likes to put on a cold front, but he does. He’d go through hell for you… I wish I still had someone like that.”

He crossed his arms, huddling deeper into the fur of his jacket. “Ya got us, idiot.”

“You don’t have to pretend to like me just because I’m Boss’s friend, you know.” It wasn’t as if Red had ever been particularly cold to you, but he still hadn’t ever treated you as much more than an acquaintance. Sure, he’d gone along and been nice to you for Boss’s sake, but he’d only hung out with you whenever his brother brought him around. “I know you’re only here because he drags you everywhere.”

“Hey,” He replied sharply. “let’s get somethin’ straight here, sweetheart, _I_ don’t go nowhere ‘less _I_ wanna be there, capiche?” He stuck his hands deep into his jacket pockets and glared at the floor. “Boss jus’ feels more comfortable if I’m around. We used t’ be a fightin’ team when we were in the Underground; he’s the strategist, I’m the firepower.”

“So, you don’t mind hanging out with me, then?” You brightened up a little at this new revelation.

“Have I ever give ya the impression that I didn’t like ya or somethin’? Cuz I don’t see why we gotsta go through this. I already said I like chillin’ witchya.” He was glaring at the floor, but his cheekbones were aflame with magic. “Yer a cool chick,an’  I like yer fuckin’ style, ain’t that enough?”

“My…erm…style?” Your ‘style’, if you had one at all, was typically sweatpants and a hoodie, maybe a ponytail if you felt up to it. You only made an effort to look nice if you were headed to your job at the bank, and even then you’d never put on anything more complicated than a blouse and skirt combo.

“Smell nice, too.” He said it so quietly, your first thought was that you’d imagined it or misheard him. Maybe you’d accidentally gotten one of his drinks by accident, and the alcohol was fucking with your head? It certainly wouldn’t be the first time Red had stored mixed drinks in your fridge (to keep them safe from Boss’s ‘interventions’), and forgotten about them afterward. You brought your soda to your nose and sniffed it, but there was no whiff of alcohol at all.

You decided to roll with the compliment. “Thanks, I shower regularly.” You took the edge off with a joke, something you knew he’d appreciate, and watched for his reaction.

His shoulders went stiff, his blush burned brighter, and sweat beaded up on his skull. “’s different kinda smell.” He muttered through his teeth. “It’s yer soul. All monsters an’ humans have a unique scent t’ their soul. Yours smells like dandelions an’ autumn olive…all flowery and sweet an’ stuff.”

You furrowed your brow, opened the collar of your shirt and checked to see if you could smell whatever the hell he was talking about. You could pick out the scent of your laundry detergent, and a hint of your favorite perfume, but nothing else. He smirked at you knowingly. “Humans can’t smell it, don’t know why. No offense, babygirl, but humans are fuckin’ weird.”

You snorted and let your shirt fall back into place. “Yeah, tell me about it. Have you met anyone whose soul stinks?”

“Mostly psychopaths an’ sociopaths…and a few of my exes…” Your eyes widened, and he grinned. “Nah, nah, I’m kiddin’… but seriously, I’ve dated some real bitches an’ assholes.”

“So I’ve heard.” You were feeling so much better now, how had he brought you from the edge of breaking down into hysterical sobbing all the way to grinning like a lunatic? At this point, you were inclined to be happy that Undyne had broken down.

“Whadda ‘bout you, squeaker?” He wiggled his browbone at you. “You have a few duds behind ya, relationship-wise?”

“No, actually. I didn’t date much in high school, dated even less in college, and I’ve been focusing on my career for the past two years.” Career? That was definitely putting a fine spin on your dead-end bank teller gig. Your business degree was gathering dust, as far as progress was concerned.

He let out a low whistle. “Not even a hook-up?”

You let your shoulders fall into a shrug. “Nope, I’m not into that. Call me a frigid bitch or a prude or whatever, but I don’t like the idea of meaningless sex. Nothing against anyone who does, of course, but it’s not who I am, sorry.”

He waved away your needless apology. “It’s all good. You do you, sweetheart.”

You smirked saucily at him. “Oh, I definitely _do_ me on a regular basis.”

At first, your playful witticism went over his head with a Reddit-worthy _whoosh_ , but then he blinked and a wide grin spread over his face. “Wonder why we never got t’ talkin’ like this before? I’m startin’ t’ figure out why Boss loves hangin’ out witchya so much.”

“Boss kind of rules the conversation game.” He had a big personality, a loud voice, and usually took charge of every situation. It wasn’t necessarily a bad thing; however, he could be difficult to deal with at times. “Maybe you and I should find some time to hang out.” You paused. “You don’t think Boss would get upset, do you? You know, if we go and do stuff without him…he does have other friends he can have fun with, right?”

“Uh, not really...” He shifted uncomfortably. “So…heh, ya wanna go ahead an’ watch that movie?” He checked the time on his phone. “Boss has been gone for a while. He an’ Undyne are probably buttin’ heads over how t’ change that damn tire.”

“Why didn’t he ask you to help?” You inquired. “You’re a mechanic, right?”

“Auto detailer, but…yeah…I know my way around pretty much any kind of car, truck, or bike. If it has an engine, I can fix it. I prefer motorcycles personally; can’t drive in a cage.” His smile reached his eyes this time around, and he seemed more comfortable.

“Is there any way I could get a free flame job on my Pontiac?” You nudged him gently with your elbow.

“Sure, I think I got a lighter ‘round here somewhere.” You broke out into giggles as he dramatically patted at his clothes. While he was goofing around, his wallet accidentally dropped from one of his baggy pockets, and you reached down to pick it up, only to have your head collide with his.

“OW!” You jerked back, wallet in hand, and rubbed ruefully at your head.

He massaged his forehead, but the pain hadn’t put a damper on his mood in the least.“Sorry, sweetheart, I’m known for bein’ a bit _hardheaded_ , heheheh.”

You handed him the leather wallet, and smiled at his pun. You were quite enjoying this new, talkative side of him. Before, he’d have said a handful of words to you over the course of an hour, and now…now he was _oozing_ charm. He was laughing, joking, and…wow, he was rather attractive when he smiled like that. “You have a nice smile.”

“Okay?” He rolled his eye lights, but that telltale blush had returned.

“Seriously, you should do it more often.” You insisted. “It’s so much better than your resting bitch face.”

“I don’t have a restin’ bitch face.” He shot back. “I’m perpetually mad at the world. There’s a difference, sweetness.” He leaned in and winked at you.

From within the depths of his jacket, you heard his phone suddenly buzz demandingly. His pleasant demeanor changed in one fell swoop as soon as he answered the call. He got up from the couch, pacing the room as he spoke into the receiver, and his tone became more heated as time when on. “What the _hell_ do ya mean yer not comin’ back? Ya just gonna leave me here, bro?” You could hear Boss shouting indecipherable words over the phone, despite Red standing on the other side of the room. “Yeah, I _can_ , but that ain’t the fuckin’ point, asshole! Whadda ‘bout squeaker, huh? It ain’t just me yer ditchin’, Boss.” He breathed angrily through his nose, and tapped at the screen.

“ _HUMAN!”_ Boss screamed over the speaker. “ _Human, you can hear me, correct?!_ ”

Red stuck his arm over the back of the sofa, so that you could speak directly into the phone. “You’re coming through crystal clear, sweetie. What’s up?”

“ _It turns out that we do not have the proper tools on hand to attend to her tire. We will need to have it towed, and then I will be escorting both Undyne and Alphys home. It will be rather late by that time, therefore, I’m afraid I will have to cancel our ‘hang-out’._ ” He yawned. “ _I must ask you a favor. If my brother is feeling too lazy to take a shortcut home, would you please allow him the privilege of staying the night?”_

“Absolutely,” You smiled kindly up at Red. “I have a few spare blankets and pillows if he wants to stay. I hope Undyne is okay, by the way.”

“ _Thank you for your generosity. Sans, thank your hostess!_ ” Red sighed, and mumbled. “ _Good enough. Anyway, yes, everyone is fine. Your concern is greatly appreciated. Have a good night, goodbye!_ ” The call ended abruptly, and Red shoved his phone huffily back into his pockets.

“You sure it’s cool if I stick around?” He asked after a few tense seconds.

“Yeah, it’s fun having you here.” You grabbed the remote to turn on the tv. “Wanna watch a movie before we hit the hay?”

He hopped over the backrest, and propped his feet up on the coffee table. “Any preferences?” You gestured at the television with the remote.

“Horror?” He suggested.

Inwardly, you cringed; the problem with his choice wasn’t that you disliked horror movies, but you were sensitive to them. Jump scares, especially, terrified you to the point of inducing nightmares. However, you desperately sought to keep that smile on his face. You quashed all feelings of dread, and forced a smile. “Cool, you can pick.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, dudes, I couldn't help myself, and I ended up adding more banter during my editing, so PSYCH this is gonna be a three-piece thing. I hope you like it?


	4. Mr. Fahrenheit (Part 3 of 3)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The epic conclusion to what was supposed to have been a mere one-shot, lol. XD

Two words perfectly summarized the next hour; BIG MISTAKE. While his eyes were glued to the screen, you quivered in your seat clutching a decorative pillow for comfort. He picked the classic gore-fest that was Saw, which was a series you’d specifically avoided because you had no stomach for blood…or guts…or psychotic, terminally-ill murders, for that matter. You successfully hid your discomfort from him for most of the movie; unfortunately you couldn’t hold back the instinct to scream and leap back when the masked man leaped out at Dr. Gordon.

Red’s head snapped around to stare at you, taking note of the beads of sweat on your forehead and your frightened eyes, and paused the movie. “Shoulda said somethin’, didn’t know it would make ya freak out.”

“No, it’s okay…really, it’s okay.” You squeaked. “I…I…well, the thing is…I do want to watch it, don’t get me wrong, I do, but...I…” Your shoulders slumped. “I’m such a wuss. I know it’s not real, i-it can’t be real, right?” Fearful shivers ran down your back. “Oh, I’m sorry, I’m ruining everything.” You pulled your knees up to your chin and buried your face in your little pillow.

“No need t’ worry, sweetheart. I’m a bigger, badder monster than anythin’ on that screen, promise.” You peeked over at him, and he shot you a charming wink.  “If ya want, there’s a little room over here.”

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.” You said, uncertain if he was offering this because he believed he owed you something.

He scoffed. “I’d get t’ have a pretty girl in my lap, why would I make a fuss ‘bout that, eh?” He leaned back and spread out. Either he didn’t notice your ensuing blush or he chose to refrain from commenting on it. Regardless, he motioned you over with a twitch of his fingers, and you obeyed.

He was softer than you’d anticipated, perhaps that could be contributed to the many layers of clothing he wore or some effect of his magic; whichever it may have been, cuddling up to him still felt nice. He was warm, and he didn’t seem to mind you resting your head on his chest. “’S kinda chilly in here.” He raised a brow at you. “Need a blanket, sweetheart?” You nodded, intending to get up, but he threw an arm over your shoulders to stop you and smirked. “Magic, remember?” He snapped his fingers, and your blanket came sailing out of your room to flutter delicately down around you both.

He twirled the remote in his hand. “Good t’ go?” Apparently satisfied with your tiny smile, he jammed the play button.

It would be a downright lie to say you paid any attention to the movie from that point on. You were too preoccupied with your pounding heart, and the way you wanted to melt into his arms. Logically, you understood this was a direct result of being touch-starved, yet there was another more primal reasoning that you refused to address. If you thought about it, if you gave it a _second_ of consideration, you could possibly jeopardize your friendship with Boss…not to mention the budding bond with Red.

Somehow, it was as if he’d flipped the coin of his personality to show you a completely new face. Usually, he was aloof; friendly enough, but always holding himself at a distance. Before tonight, the best conversations you’d held with him were utter pun wars. Before tonight, he’d neither been alone with you, nor touched you. It was odd, once you thought of it, because he was the touchy-feely sort.

Now, though? Now, he was rubbing his thumb over the side of your neck, and his other hand was steadily creeping farther and farther up your leg. He kept it innocent, but his hand was _definitely_ half-way up your thigh by this time. He let his head fall onto your shoulder, eyes still focused on the movie, and a ghost of his breath hit your skin with every exhale.

All of a sudden, the screen went black. The absence of the television’s glow left the room in complete darkness. Puzzled, you looked to him for answers, but as soon as you turned your head he made his move. All that you registered within that half-second time lapse before he pressed his mouth to yours was the realization that he was _so close_.

The kiss was short, chaste for a guy like him; there was no tongue at all, and he was surprisingly gentle. When he pulled back, his eye lights were shimmering brightly. “Did I scare ya?” His voice was barely above a whisper.

“No,” You let your forehead touch his. “I don’t think you could scare me if you tried.” You grinned back at him defiantly.

His evil hand slid up to your hip. “Bullshit, I could totally make ya scream.” His thumb pressed hard into the pulse point of your neck. “Betchya’d scream a helluva lot if I ate ya up.” His eye lights glittered ominously. “Monsters as big as me get hungry pretty often, y’know.”

You balled your hand into the fabric of his sweater. “Are you hungry now?”

“ _Starvin_ ’.” He attacked your neck without warning, drawing a surprised little ‘eep!’ from you. His hand cupped the back of your head as he dragged his teeth over your skin. He didn’t quite bite, but he was pressing the points of his teeth into your flesh hard enough to bruise.

You squirmed in his lap in an attempt to get comfortable. “H-hold on.” He stilled at your command, and you wiggled, but couldn’t seem to find a good place. “Your…uh…your belt buckle is digging into my hip.”

He chuckled. “Baby, that ain’t my belt buckle.”

If you could have chosen a moment to die, this would have been it. Your blush deepened, and you froze like a deer caught in headlights. “Oh…um…okay…” _Smooth move,  X-Lax._ “Do you…uh…you wanna maybe take this to...I mean, we don’t have to, but…maybe we can go…” You gestured vaguely in the direction of your bedroom, face still burning.

He scooped you up without hesitation, toed your door open wide enough for him to come in, and laid you out on the bed. The blanket followed at his unspoken behest, and settled in a heap at the end of your bed. Through a lustful daze, you watched Red swipe a hand carelessly in the direction of the door, which proceeded to slam shut. “You said ya weren’t into casual sex, so here’s your chance t’ say no, darlin’.”

“Does it have to be just this once?” You asked sadly, hoping he’d say it wouldn’t be, but you knew him well enough to understand there was a slim chance of that.

He cocked his head to the side, and a smug twinkle sparkled in his eyes. “Can’t get enough of me already, huh?” He took a seat on the bed beside you, causing the mattress to dip deeply under his weight, and rubbed a hand over his skull. “If ya want it t’ mean somethin’…it could.”

You sucked at your lip thoughtfully. “Like…like maybe we could figure something out?”

He pulled his jacket off and tossed it at the wall. “I was thinkin’ more along the lines of exclusivity, if yer up for it. I’m kind of an ‘all or nothin’’ guy when I’m feelin’ serious ‘bout things.” He crawled up the bed to lie down next to you and tucked one arm behind his head. “Up t’ you, though.”

“I’d like to give it a shot.” You beamed as radiantly like a ray of springtime sunshine. “I need someone to chase away all the axe-murderers I’m going to be dreaming of tonight.” You planted a kiss on his cheek.

“If I get my way, ya won’t be sleepin’ at all.” He reached up to push back a strand of hair from your face. “Truth be told, I been jonesin’ for a taste o’ you for a few weeks now, since ya punched that bitch at the bar.”

“That…that was a lapse in judgment. I should’ve ignored her. It’s a miracle she didn’t press assault charges.” You sighed, easily recalling the night in question. Some floozy in a _mini_ -miniskirt, wearing a blouse cut so low it might as well have been a vest, was dancing on the bar like an idiot. She kicked you in the face –perhaps that was a hyperbole since all she did was toe you under the nose with the tip of her stiletto as a stupid, drunken joke. You weren’t amused, to say the least, and one thing simply led to another. Before you knew it, you’d decked her in her Gucci-wearing, skim-milk-no-fat-latte-drinking, my-shit-don’t-stink, daddy-paid-for-my-nose job face.-…okay, so maybe you were still salty over it, but two wrongs never make a right.

Speaking of rights and wrongs, something occurred to you now. “Maybe we…we shouldn’t do this.” You blurted out as he was leaning in for another kiss. He drew back, confused and somewhat miffed at your unexpected reluctance. “How do you think Boss would feel if we don’t work out?” It would be terribly awkward for him. “It could ruin our friendship…he’d be upset… _I’d_ be upset…” You let out a groan.

“You-” He tapped your nose playfully. “-got a bad habit o’ thinkin’ too much, sweetheart. Boss can deal with it, as much as he acts like a kid he’s still a grown-ass monster.” He grabbed the swell of your hip and squeezed. “Gimme a night t’ help ya decide, an’ if you figure ya don’t wanna risk it I won’t hitchya up again.”

That sounded reasonable. “I suppose it’s better to make an informed decision.” You acquiesced with grace, but it was mostly because of his firm grip on your hips, which was straying further down even as the words left your lips.

His fingertips slipped smoothly under the band of your pants, and devilishly traced the hollow of your hip. Scandalous centimeters separated his touch from the more delicate skin. He sensually brushed the knuckles of his unoccupied hand along the outline of your jaw; his grin grew more primal with every inch of skin he touched, yet remaining soft in nature. “You familiar with safewords?”  He murmured, and appeared relieved when you nodded eagerly. “’Kay, then. Word o’ the night is gonna be…nuts, cuz I’m gonna drive you crazy.”

His slid his belt free from the loops, binding your wrists behind your back, and held the remaining length in an unyielding grip. With his free hand, he yanked your sweatpants and underwear down and kicked them off the bed, before pressing hard on your back. “Down.”  Your face was pushed abruptly, though gently, into your pillow. With one knee, he forced your legs to spread wider. He trailed the tips of his phalanges from your head to your lower back, scratching your scalp and leaving a series of welts all the way to the curve of your ass. “Gonna squeal for me, squeaker?”

“Only if you –hahh,” You grunted as he pushed his pelvis forcefully against your butt. He got a good laugh out of your surprise, so you raised your head off the pillow to shoot a mock glare over your shoulder. “Only if you make me. You gotta earn it.”

For half a second, he was stunned. Then, a sly, slow smirk spread across his face as quickly as fire scorches through birch tinder. His eye lights burned in the inky black of his sockets, eyeing you with desire and a hint of admiration. “Earn it, huh? Well-“ His tongue flicked over his golden fang as the air around him crackled with magic. “I _have_ been known t’ enjoy a challenge now an’ again.” His head ducked down between your legs, and his tongue swiped at your pussy for just a moment. “Aw, ya ain’t hardly wet enough for me, babe.” He sounded gleefully disappointed, an odd mix for certain, yet also one that held a great deal of promise. “Guess I’m just gonna have t’ help ya along, eh?”

He nipped at your hip, and tugged hard enough on his belt to bend your shoulders and head up off the pillow. “You like it rough an’ quick or slow an’ sweet?”

“Both, both is good!” You gasped as he sank his teeth into your flesh a second time. “O-oh god!”

“The name’s Red, actually.” He snickered, and ran his tongue over your newly bruised skin. He kissed and laved his way up to your neck, before biting down again and grinding his dick against your ass. A tiny, strangled yelp of surprise burst from your lips. “Y’know, I think I’ve been waitin’ for long enough, squeaker. Not feelin’ particularly patient at the moment, but if you could see you right now-“ He took a moment to draw back for an appreciative eye-full. “-hell, I doubt ya’d blame me. I’ll make it up t’ ya later, promise.”

He let go of the belt that was forcing your body up, and your head hit the pillow with a soft poof. Your shoulder was bleeding, not badly, but from your limited perspective you could see a trickle of blood flowing from the wound and staining your green sheets. You raptly stared at the little bead of red liquid, and missed the metallic buzz of a zipper being yanked down. It wasn’t until you felt something heavy, broad, and warm slide over your pussy that you were drawn back from your pain-induced high. Your head shot up, and you glanced back at him. “Welcome back from subspace, sweetheart.” He winked down at you. “Did ya have a good trip?”

“What…what _even_ -“ You blinked hard, feeling sluggish and heavy compared to that moment of euphoria.

“Let’s save the explanations for later, sweetness.” His sockets slid closed as he pressed the head of his cock into you. "You still want this?”

“Will you just fuck me already?!” You huffed, wiggling your butt impatiently at him.

“As ya wish, sweetheart.” He chuckled. “Always happy t’ service a lady in need.”

 ()()()()

Hours later, Boss was stealthily sneaking his way back into your apartment. He hadn’t needed to pick the lock since you’d forgotten to secure the door –he’d definitely need to scold you about that in the future. He slipped inside, tiptoed through the living room, and quietly huffed at the mess of junk food and CDs you’d left scattered about, but he wasn’t here to make a fuss over your slovenly cleaning habits.

He reached for the knob to your bedroom door, yet refrained from opening it for several seconds while he listened for sounds of activity. When he heard none (except the chainsaw revving in his brother’s throat), he carefully peered inside the room. A dastardly grin lit up his normally stoic features as he took in the sight of two figures cuddled close together in your bed. He took care to close the door behind him, and left no trace of his presence.

Undyne and Alphyswere waiting for him outside; Alphys was waving a handmade flag that read ‘GOTP!’ in scarlet letters. “Did they do it?!” Undyne whispered conspiratorially to Boss.

“My brilliant plan succeeded!” He pridefully polished his phalanges on his scarf. “As I _knew_ it would, nyheheh!”

“What happens now?” Alphys asked excitedly.

“Now,” He clapped his hands together and rubbed them together gleefully. “Now, we _wait._ ”


	5. The Monster Inside Me

Axe’s fingers clawed at his dimmed socket, and while a minute part of him recognized how grotesque the sight could be…he truly couldn’t help it. He _itched_. No matter how much he scratched and dug, he could never quite reach the source. For weeks upon months, he’d wake up with the most irritating, overwhelming need to scratch his skull. Beyond that, the wound to his head was constantly covered in strange ooze. After consideration of the facts, he figured it could possibly be infected.

It wasn’t as if it had ever healed properly, anyway. It couldn’t have; the lack of steady meals and constant danger presented in the Underground made the smallest of nicks a deadly matter. The chilly air that blew through his opened head, the snowflakes that made their way inside and melted into slush within the wound, starvation, and gore from his victims –all of these could have instigated the infection.

He gingerly touched the hated crack and his hand came away laden with mucous-like gunk. He grimaced in disgust before wiping the mess on his shorts. He raised himself off his bed, groaning because of the effort involved, and dragged himself to the bathroom. The water from the tap was brown and stank of iron, good for nothing except for rinsing the slime from his hand, as it gushed from the faucet. 

He leaned heavily on the sink and the face gazing back at him was barely recognizable; he’d changed so much in the hellish four years since that awful brat tromped their way through the Underground. He’d been destroyed, mentally and physically, and remade into a pale shadow of the being he used to be. He felt like scrap iron, brittle with the slag of sin, both worthless and useless in his current incarnation.

“Bruh, you look like crap.”

He leaped backward, his hands glowing dull mahogany to protect himself from the threat, but the expected blow didn’t come. He spun around wildly, his good eye light blown wide with panic, as he searched for the source of the voice.  After a few moments, he shivered and struggled to relax. He must have been hearing things. There was no way anyone could get close to the house; their property was a labyrinth of puzzles and traps laid out by Papyrus specifically for protection, _it was supposed to be safe here_.

“Hey, asshole, I’m getting dizzy up here, cut it out!”

“What the fuck?!” Magic buzzed to life once more in his fists. A primal, warning snarl left his throat, confusion making his survival instincts go haywire, until he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror again. His body froze as his mind raced to process the pair of eyes peeping out from the jagged, black depths of his head. Without thinking, he swiped at them and missed.

“Oi! Grabbing is rude.” Tutted the voice in his head.

“Who the fuck’re you?” He loudly demanded. His soul throbbed in the painfully tight pincers of terror, which was woefully clear in his voice to even his own ears. “Nah, nah… _better question_ –why the fuck’re ya in my damn head?!”

“Have you _seen_ what it’s like out there?” The voice replied snappishly, as if he were an idiot. “I’d likely end up baked into a pie by that crazy bitch in the ruins! Or stepped on! That’s how my cousin went, ya know. One moment he was chillin’ out, maxin’ and relaxing all cool, and then _squish_!” The voice sounded highly disgruntled by this fact. “Nope, it’s safer in here, thank you very much.”

He glared at the crack in his head. “How do ya know _I_ won’t bake ya into a fuckin’ pie for crawlin’ into my fuckin’ head?!”

“Hehe, not if you can’t catch me.” The voice teased. “I’m pretty fast for a snail. I used to win all the races back when they still had them.” One eye stalk popped back out of the crack, peeked around, and was soon joined by a second. “Although, living in your head isn’t all it’s _cracked up_ to be.”

His mouth turned up in a wild grin. “A’right, parasite, so yer a snail, huh? How the fuck did a snail get inside my head? Did ya drop outta the sky like a fuckin’ ninja?”

The inside of his head tickled a bit, and then a minuscule face snuck into view (though still very much out of his reach). It was, indeed, a snail; atypically large and hauling a shell tinted the same pale blue of a fresh corpse. The shell was cracked, scarred by apparent violence, and chipped, and the largest ran straight from the outer edge to the swirled center. The eyestalks squinted at him. “Hold on, I need my glasses.” The snail retreated into her home for half a moment, and then returned sporting a pair of badly cracked, horn-rimmed spectacles. “There, that’s better. And, to answer your question, no. I slipped inside while you had your head up against the door to the ruins. Also, I’ve been meaning to warn you about that lady. Anybody who makes snails into pies is a _bone_ -afide nutter. Escargot? Sure. But pies? Nah, that’s a better psycho test than even Rorschach could think up.”

He arched a brow, his eye locked on the tiny thing, and scoffed. “Like ya got any room t’ talk. It was pretty _slimy_ of ya to go creepin’ into my skull without even offerin’ t’ pay rent.”

“Eh, didn’t figure you’d _mind_ , considering you don’t bother yourself much about using your head. You’re so _brainless_ , you’d have been dead a hundred times over by now if I hadn’t been looking out for you.” The snail seemed to smirk at him proudly.

“Don’t recall ya talkin’ before now.”

“Yeah, I’m kinda shy, so I’ve just been tickling you whenever I think something isn’t right.” The snail’s eyes wiggled and bobbled cheerily, and he heard a soft laugh vibrate the walls of his skull. “Just call me your snaily sense! With me around, you’ve got a pair of eyes in the back of your head.”

For the first time in too long, he laughed, and despite the weirdness of the situation he found the snail's presence to be welcome. “Gotta admit, what could I possibly say t’ refuse that pitch? Heh, guess I’ve got a roommate now. One thing, though.”

“Eh?”

He rubbed at the slime and it clung to his phalanges in sticky, gloopy strands. “This shit is disgustin’. Keep it t’ a minimum, a’ight? An’ don’t go invitin’ yer slug pals t’ go slippin’ and slidin’ around inside my head, either.”

“I am a _snail_ , asshole. Not a slug, thank goodness.” The snail said in a huffy, offended tone of voice.

He shrugged, uncaring. “Yeah, sure. So, what’s yer name, parasite?”

The snail slithered speedily beyond the edges of his head wound and took a seat atop the intact portion of his head. “You may call me Sassy, everyone does.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the lovely, snail-y, Indecissive-Kimi due to some discord high jinks.  
> Also, a link to the art that HibernalBeast did for this! 
> 
> https://hibernalbeast.tumblr.com/post/178131520445/discord-shenanigans-indecissive-kimi-xd


	6. Confrontation (Part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For weeks, Stretch has been struggling with the suspicion that you’re cheating on him with Blue. Grief-stricken, he decides to get fucked up on Determination injections and finally break it off.
> 
> Trigger warnings: needles, mentions of substance abuse, implication of mental problems, and adult language.

Long before he opened his sockets to fully face it, Stretch knew what was wrong. Hesitantly, hoping against hope, he brushed a hand over your side of the bed. The sheets were cold, hardly rumpled at all, and you were long gone. He balled his fist in the sheet with a sigh, and tried to ignore the prickle of worry, hurt, and disappointment in his heart. Spiny, snide thoughts poked holes in the glamour of content he’d cast over himself for the past several weeks.

And, to make matters worse, he knew _exactly_ where you would be, too. You would be downstairs with his brother –his cool, genius, magical prodigy of a brother- giggling up a storm over a conversation that would abruptly stop as soon as he made his presence known. He groaned and rubbed roughly at his sockets, as if he could dig out the image from his mind by doing so, yet still forced himself to get up. In spite of the urge to lay there and wallow in misery, he had to get up.

He was done with this; done with you fooling around, done with his brother pretending to grin so innocently at the subtle, prodding questions he asked Sans when you weren’t around, and absolutely d-o-n-e with pretending he didn’t know. He could put up with a lot of things, hell, he’d managed to handle more shit in a handful of years than most people could in a lifetime, but he would not put up with _this_ any longer. These days, he had more respect for himself than that, and he wasn’t gonna roll over.

Besides, he’d given you so many chances to stop. You were smart, he thought you’d eventually realize he’d caught on, but either you truly didn’t notice or…you honestly didn’t care. He wasn’t sure which answer would hurt more, so he definitely wasn’t planning on asking. At this point, he had no idea what to say. Should he demand an explanation? Did he even _want_ an insight into why you’d been running around behind his back with his bro?

He didn’t bother getting dressed. He simply pushed himself out of his sad, empty bed, and plodded to the bathroom like iron balls were chained to his ankles. He cast a quick look downstairs upon hearing a hitch in the laughter coming from the kitchen, and his mouth tasted sour as he forced his eyes away. It didn’t matter if they’d heard him get up.

He’d been planning this for a while now; there was a wad of cash stuffed under his mattress and two packed bags. After this, he’d need to go away for a bit. Before now, he’d never entertained the idea of leaving his brother, but he needed a break from everything. He’d called all of his various jobs and mustered every second of PTO, vacation, and wellness time he could, which gave him an entire free week to get his shit back together.

Right now, he was holding himself together with super glue composed of nicotine, sugar, and DT injections. Undyne had warned him of the dangers, and, lately, he’d suspected she was watering down the doses, but it was the only thing keeping his skull screwed on until he had the luxury of time to process this mess his life had become. He wasn’t sure if melting into a formless, half-mindless puddle of magic was such a bad thing anymore.

He hid the needles behind your stash of female hygiene products, where he knew Blue would be too embarrassed at touching such private things to try cleaning, and retrieved them from the seemingly innocent bag of cotton balls in which they were stored. A quick stab into one of his joints, which were among the various points on his body where his magic was most concentrated, and he could finally feel the will –the primal _need_ \- to survive pumping through his body. The feeling was nearly euphoric, yet with it came a familiar, bone-searing fury. He was livid at you for the cheating, at Blue for betraying him, and at the world for its evil injustices.

At least he was feeling something again, though, instead of that awful, hollow, ghostly pain that seemed to echo every self-loathing laden thought that his mind screeched at him. What had he done? Why had he been forced to sit at a table filled with the sweetest possibilities, only to be forced to watch helplessly as life’s ungracious harpies stole every hope out from under his figurative nose?  He thought he’d done it all right this time around! He’d gone for the therapy sessions, he’d taken the medications, he’d laid off the pot…

If he were truthful with himself, he should’ve seen this coming. You’d probably gotten fed up with waiting for him to get over his issues. He was a trainwreck, he knew that, even if he was actively trying to be better, he’d never be enough. Still, that wasn’t an excuse for you at all. If you were any kind of decent, you would’ve broken it off with him and saved him the suffering. All those weeks of hopeless pining could have been avoided, and he was more than a little resentful of it all.

He hoped you wouldn’t ask him to stay, to look the other way _just this once_ , it felt like his soul was being gouged out simply thinking about it. His bubblegum toothpaste, the kind you bought him as a joke because of his sweet-tooth, made him want to puke. He spat it out into the sink like a wad of phlegm, rinsed his mouth out, and tossed his toothbrush onto the countertop carelessly.

He didn’t remember going downstairs, all that he knew was he’d stepped out of the bathroom and then he was suddenly in the kitchen yelling at the top of his lungs. He felt a strange disconnect, as if the words he heard were coming from the tv or radio instead of his own throat, while he ranted himself raw. He felt his magic bubbling up and spilling from his mouth with every syllable. Rich, orange fog now filled the air like a misty veil, fluttering and shuddering with his breathless outburst.

His hands were burning, and the pain was enough to make him pause to look them over. His fingertips were wet, shining with beads of melted bone, and splashes of his body were already hitting the floor like candle wax. He stared, jaw agape in disbelief, and barely realized Sans had already leaped into action. Blue magic was suddenly coursing through his body, a desperate attempt to raise his HP to a level that could cope with the amount of DT in his system, while he was still trying to process how the fuck he’d gotten downstairs in the first place.

Merciful blackness replaced the anguish, and before he was consumed by the blurry, ebony void, he felt a touch of peace at last. No more torturous thoughts, no more lying awake at night while he rolled your actions over and over again in his head, and he couldn’t recall ever feeling so relieved. If this was Death, She was certainly a blessing.

When he woke up again, this time on a stiff cot in a room reeking of chemical cleaners, he was almost disappointed. Groggy, the bones of his face feeling like sandpaper had ground them to grit, he clenched his jaw and forced his sockets open. The room was blindingly white and he shut his eyes again by reflex, and a tiny moan escaped his dry mouth.

“H-honey? Oh my god, Sans, he’s awake.” He heard your voice crack a little. You sounded worn out, stressed, and his first thought was to crack a joke, to try to make everything better…but then he remembered, and his jaw snapped shut again.

“Brother, you had us both so worried!” Heavy footsteps approached the bed. “Papyrus, what in the name of the North Star has gotten into you? I specifically recall giving you an age-appropriate lecture on the dangers of drugs and alcohol when you turned nine!”

“Sans, I’m sorry, but now _really_ isn’t the time for that.” You reprimanded him softly.

Stretch’s eyes shot open, and with a strength borne of residual anger, he shot up into a sitting position. He was too tired to properly glare, but he could tell you felt the weight of his eyes by the way you flinched back. “Not yer honey anymore, sweetheart.” He let the endearment slide off his tongue in a mocking hiss. “Now, get outta here. I got a few questions for my bro.”

The light in your eyes dulled, and you took a few more hesitant steps back from the bed. Sans reached out and touched your back with the lightest of pressure. “It’s just the DT speaking, human. He doesn’t mean it.”

“The fuck I don’t!” He snapped back.

“Papyrus, I am going to overlook the atrocious language because you are obviously not yourself. However, it is still completely unacceptable to speak to your datemate this way. You owe her an apology.” Sans’s sockets narrowed as he tapped his foot expectantly.

“An apology? _An apology?!_ ” He growled. “I don’t owe her, or you, shit, _bro_. How the fuck could ya do this crap to me, huh? I’m yer brother!”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, Pappy. I don’t exactly know what you were hallucinating about while you were high, but-“

“I haven’t touched pot in six months an’ you know that.” Stretch ignored the itch to initiate a physical fight. Sans’s betrayal hurt, but he was still his brother. He wouldn’t be able to bring himself to hurt him at all. In fact, he was inclined to believe you’d somehow coerced Blue into it. Blue was always eager for attention and approval, maybe you’d convinced him it was okay.

“He…he still thinks…oh no…” You were almost in tears, clenching and unclenching your fists at your sides, and sounding so broken. “Honey, I-“

He grabbed at his skull. “Just…just shut up, okay? If ya ever loved me at all, shut the fuck up and leave.”

You clapped a hand over your mouth, shoulders curving in, as you pressed yourself closer to the door. You fumbled for the doorknob with one hand, while the other was shoved deep into your pocket. He tried to find some satisfaction in being able to hurt you, but he merely felt emptier. He couldn’t bring himself to watch you leave, which is why he didn’t see you throw something until it hit him in the chest with a soft _thunk_.

Before he could process what the tiny, black projectile was, he heard the heavy door slam closed behind you. With shaking fingers, he picked up the curious object for examination. “I am extremely disappointed in you, brother!” Sans crossed his arms and pinned Papyrus with a stern frown.

He barely heard him. He was too busy staring at the elegant ring box you’d tossed away. Inside were two simple golden bands, each set with a small opal chip, and nestled into a bed of cotton batting. “What?” He pulled the rings from their home, and, with a growing feeling of dread, realized the larger of the pair was a perfect fit. “Oh, _fuck…_ ”

“Oh, wonderful, you’ve figured it out!” Sans exclaimed brightly. “I should have suspected you would be curious about all the time we’ve spent hanging out. We don’t usually, because I’m so busy training for the police force, but she specifically asked me to help her plan the proposal. I have to say, I’m rather upset, Pappy. You ruined all of my glorious planning! I rented a gazebo and everything!”

Stretch struggled to get out of the bed, but his legs didn’t want to support him and he nearly fell flat on his face. If Sans hadn’t caught him, he probably would have smashed his head into the tile floor. “Blue, shit…I’m sorry, I’m so fuckin-“

“Language!” Blue interjected loudly. He let go of Stretch’s hood, and wrapped one of his arms around his shoulders for support. “Now, we’re going to go find her and you are going to apologize for being ridiculous.”


	7. Confrontation (Part 2)

You had a good ten-minute head start, and, stars above, he knew you used to run track in high school, but you had no right being this fast. He chanced a second to look out the third-story window, and you were already halfway across the parking lot. Not only that, but he also had to go through the lengthy check-out process. Damnit, it seemed like today was out to bite him in the ass…probably for being a thoughtless douchebag. And once he’d signed the last of five –who fucking decided this paperwork should be five front-and-back pages long?- papers to get himself out, he was sure you were long gone.

“Don’t worry, Pappy.” Blue patted his arm comfortingly. “Here’s what we’re going to do. First, I am going to try calling her. If she picks up, I’ll ask her where she is and request a _civilized_ conversation.” He eyed Stretch pointedly. “If she doesn’t, I’ll warp to her apartment. If she’s still nowhere to be found, I have a comprehensive list of the phone numbers belonging to every hotel, motel, and B&B in the area!”

“…Do I even wanna know why ya got a list like that, Sherlock Bones?” Stretch arched an inquisitive brow. For all of his seeming innocence, Blue was…well, Blue wasn’t as simple as he appeared. He was a genius in strategy, puzzles, and obtaining information. He was cunning and quick as a whit when he needed to be, and Stretch sometimes worried about how that knowledge could one day backfire on his big bro.

Blue smiled secretively and a flash of cyan magic flared in his sockets. “No offense meant, baby bones, but you have self-sabotaging tendencies, and as a wise man once said ‘Hope for the best, but prepare for the worst.’!” He fished around in his pockets. “Now, typically, I hate to support your sugar habit…” His eye lights shimmered softly. “In light of the situation, though, I believe you could use a boost right now.” He withdrew a small, bear-shaped bottle of honey and pushed it into Stretch’s hands.

“Any chance ya brought me a pack, too?” Stretch joked as he cracked the seal on the bottle.

Sans stiffened, hackles raised, and huffed indignantly. “As if I would _ever_ touch those evil deathsticks!” He fished around for his ancient flip-phone before punching in your number. Both of them listened to it ring until your voice message mailbox recording picked up the call. Sans left you a message despite the low chance of you reading it and closed the phone with a sigh. “Well, that’s one box checked off. Moving on!”

You weren’t in your apartment, either. You weren’t an idiot, and you knew both he and Blue knew where you lived. The only hope they’d had was they’d be able to catch in the middle of leaving for a hotel room. Unfortunately, it seemed they’d missed you completely. “Stars, I feel like an idiot.” Stretch moped aloud to himself while Sans set about the tedious task of calling the various hotels.

Your apartment held so many memories of the past two years; pictures from the time he’d taken you to Six Flags, your enormous stuffed animal collection (which he’d been happy to contribute to several times), the bag of extra clothes he stored there, and there was even a full pack of his preferred cigarette brand on the kitchen table. Granted, since the two of you had become a couple he’d split his time evenly between his place and yours. It was almost a second home, and being there now felt as if he were partially homeless…as if he’d lost the right to be there.

He gathered up his stuff and shoved it all into the bag. If he wasn’t able to convince you to take him back, he might as well make the break as clean as possible out of common courtesy. There was barely a chance you would, and he couldn’t blame you if you didn’t. He’d been so caught up in himself, he hadn’t thought to go to you with his questions. Sans was right; he had a problem with fucking himself over.

“Aha! Thank you, ma’am! You’ve been most helpful!” Sans gleefully jumped from his seat on the couch, thought for a moment, and then opened up a warp. “Have a wonderful day, goodbye!” He stepped aside and gestured to Papyrus. “Now, go on. I made all the calculations and this should open up into her bathroom.” He peered into it curiously. “I can hear movement, brother! Our quarry has been cornered.”

“Not so loud, she’ll hear ya.” Stretch yanked his brother gently back from the space-time rip.

“Oh, and you’re a mess!” Blue ignored his protests and attempted to straighten his clothes for him. “I swear, you’re eighty-seven and you _still_ haven’t learned how to iron properly. Why do I even bother?”

“’Cause I’m the best bro in the world?” Stretch prompted with an elbow in Sans’s ribs.

Sans chuckled and shook his head. “No comment, I plead the 5th!” With that said, he shoved Stretch into the bathroom of your hotel and sealed the warp behind him.

Stretch languished in the purgatory of that bathroom for Polaris’ knows how long, because _he_ certainly didn’t know how long it took for him to finally gather up the ecto-nuts required to have this conversation. He could hear you breaking down on the other side of the door, and it was killing him.

On one hand, maybe he shouldn’t do this. He’d already fucked things up and you deserved someone who wouldn’t pull shit like this. On the other…well, he adored you. For a long time, before any of this stupid shit had gone down, he was pretty sure he was well on his way to loving you. He hadn’t felt that before. Sure, he’d experienced lust and infatuation, but honest-to-stars love? No, he couldn’t say he’d ever believed he could’ve found someone to spend a lifetime with until he met you. He took a breath so deep his spine cracked, and reached for the knob-

-right as you jerked the door open. He jumped back in surprise, lost his balance, and slipped on the cheap-ass bathroom mat. His skull smashed into the toilet with a force that made his head explode with stars of white-hot pain. “SHITTY TITTIES!”

“Stretch?! What the hell are you doing here?” You grabbed his hand and yanked him to his feet. “How did you find-…wait, it was Blue, wasn’t it?” You refused to meet his eyes, opting instead to snatch a few squares of toilet paper to blot at your wet face.

“Yeah, he’s a meddler.” Stretch gingerly prodded the back of his skull. His phalanges came away sticky and red. “Huh, I’m bleedin’.”

“Yea- you’re _what?!_ ” Your eyes widened in alarm. “Turn around and let me see!”

“’M fine.” He mumbled and used another wad of toilet paper to dab at the bone marrow. “It only knocked me down by a couple HP, I’m good.”

You gripped his shoulders and spun him forcefully around. With no small difficulty, you pried his hand from the wound and took a good look at it. It was a minuscule, oozing crack no longer than your pinky finger. You cleaned the crack as best you could with soap and water, and used a Spongebob plaster from your purse to protect it. “I can’t believe Blue would do this.” You grumbled. “He’s so sneaky!”

“If ya don’t want me here…I mean…I can go.” Stretch nervously picked at the pearls of fuzz on his hoodie.

“It’s not that I don’t want you here. I just…I needed time to think things through, but you’re here now, so we might as well clear the air.” You trudged to the hotel bed and curled up on it with a sigh. “You could’ve come to me, you know, if you were wondering where things were headed. I’m pretty much over what you said to me in the hospital. The only problem I have is with why you’d trusted me so little in the first place. Did I-“

“It wasn’t you, sweetheart. You ain’t been nothin’ but good to me.” He sat down on the farthest edge of the bed. “I’m the one with the problems. I got all caught up in feeling sorry for myself, and feelin’ jealous of Sans, that I ruined everything. I’m sorry, I know there’s probably nothing I can do to fix it, but I’m sorry. I should’ve asked you, or even Blue, before I jumped to conclusions.” He let his head fall into his hands. “I’m tryin’ to get better, babe. I am-“

“I know, I know.” You reached out to touch his shoulder. “But this does change things, Stretch. I thought we were ready for…well, you know…,but now I’m not so sure. For both our sakes’, I think it’s best if you give me back the rings.”

“So, we really are done, then?” He turned the tiny box over in his hands. He’d only had it for a few hours, but now he didn’t wanna give it up.

“That’s not what I said.” You put your hands over his. “I forgive you, and I’m not breaking up with you. What I’m saying is maybe we’re not ready for this step right now and you have to realize _that’s okay_. I can wait, and I’ll help you through whatever you need help with until you’re ready. And, yes, you did mess up, but I’m partially at fault, too. I should have given you more time before I started planning to ask such a big thing of you.” You took the box out of his hands and tucked it into your suitcase.

“I feel like I’m draggin’ ya through the mud here.” He felt a piece of him wither deep inside. “You shouldn’t have to wait for me.”

“I want to.” You told him firmly. “When you love someone, you’ll wait as long as they need.”

He snapped to attention and pinned you with a look of uncertainty. “Did you just-“

You shrugged your shoulders shyly. “Well, I thought my feelings for you were kinda obvious, since you knew I was gonna propose.”

“Nah, it’s not that. I just…heh…we ain’t never said the words, y’know? Feels good to hear it, though.” He licked the corner of his teeth out of habit. Damn, he could use a smoke right now. His nerves were more than frayed; they were nothing more than ragged, loose threads barely holding him to sanity.

“You don’t have to say it back.” You stammered out in a rush to salvage the soft moment, although the air was already growing thick with an awkward, uncomfortable silence.

It took him a moment, because today had been one hell of a shitshow, to respond. “But I wanna say it.” He held out a hand, which you happily took, and smiled broadly. “I love you, too, sweetheart.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> The Headless Waltz - Aurelio Voltaire  
> Do You Hear the People Sing? - Les Miserables


End file.
